I had several great chats with colleagues yesterday -- some about work and some purely social. I really like the people I work with.
I just got an email from a colleague that really made me smile. She and I are working with a student who needs help with test-taking. She's bringing over the student's exams for the semester so that the student and I can go over them. I'm essentially "checking out" the exams from her because her department doesn't release them to students. Here's our email exchange:
Her: When do you want me to drop off/ or when do you want to pick up the exams?
Me: If you feel like getting out, I've assigned myself homework between 10 and 11, so I'll definitely be in my office then. I can also plan to stop by whenever you're free.
Her: We need to talk about 2 things. 1. What do you mean "you assigned yourself homework" ? And 2. Why would you ever do such a thing? I'll bring over her stuff around 10.
She's the same person who turned me onto Cute Overload. It's clearly been a good week at work so far.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I got a feeling...
Last week, Liz and I declared during our morning train commute that November was going to be a good month. We agreed we were both getting back to our weekday swims. So far, we're 2 for 2. And, unlike October, November has been sunny! Supposedly, we had 22 days of rain in October, when our average is 12. No wonder I felt like crap.
This talk of swimming and sunshine -- it's about feeling good. I get into a cycle of feeling meh and not wanting to exercise, when exercise is clearly something that helps me to not feel so meh, so I'm not exercising and not feeling less meh but feel too meh to get myself to exercise.
But, it's November. I got a feeling that this month's gonna be a good month...
I hate to sweat. I really, really do. Swimming is good because it's low-impact and not sweaty. It's strange for me to think of enjoying anything active, even when there isn't sweat involved, but I really enjoy my swimming.
Especially the first lap.
There's NOTHING like the first dive down, smoothly moving through the water to a steady freestyle stroke. Breathing is so simple, the water is so clear, and the strokes are steady and even. This first lap is as good as it gets for me, and I'd love to have every lap feel this week, this satisfying.
The problem is my breathing. The first lap is great because I've used my inhaler preventatively but haven't yet got my heart pumping. My need for air feel so much simpler in that first lap. I take one--maybe two--breaths across the pool in the first lap, compared with the three I take in subsequent laps. I don't work hard in that first lap. It just feels natural. The rest of them will all be work, and when I get a good lap in there somewhere in the middle of the swim, I feel really good about it.
Besides the asthma, I never learned proper swimming breathing. As a child, I was deathly afraid of the water, and I hated swimming lessons. As an adult, I don't know how to plug my nose underwater without actually wearing nose plugs. I honestly think my breathing would be smoother if I could swim without the nose plugs. (If you can describe how that's done--plugging you nose from inside while you swim--do tell!)
I'll close with a recap of our Halloween festivities with my family, courtesy of Anne. Her costume was truly frightening, by which I mean AWESOME. And, for your reading amusement, here's her story about what happens when I'm not there in the morning to save her life.
This talk of swimming and sunshine -- it's about feeling good. I get into a cycle of feeling meh and not wanting to exercise, when exercise is clearly something that helps me to not feel so meh, so I'm not exercising and not feeling less meh but feel too meh to get myself to exercise.
But, it's November. I got a feeling that this month's gonna be a good month...
I hate to sweat. I really, really do. Swimming is good because it's low-impact and not sweaty. It's strange for me to think of enjoying anything active, even when there isn't sweat involved, but I really enjoy my swimming.
Especially the first lap.
There's NOTHING like the first dive down, smoothly moving through the water to a steady freestyle stroke. Breathing is so simple, the water is so clear, and the strokes are steady and even. This first lap is as good as it gets for me, and I'd love to have every lap feel this week, this satisfying.
The problem is my breathing. The first lap is great because I've used my inhaler preventatively but haven't yet got my heart pumping. My need for air feel so much simpler in that first lap. I take one--maybe two--breaths across the pool in the first lap, compared with the three I take in subsequent laps. I don't work hard in that first lap. It just feels natural. The rest of them will all be work, and when I get a good lap in there somewhere in the middle of the swim, I feel really good about it.
Besides the asthma, I never learned proper swimming breathing. As a child, I was deathly afraid of the water, and I hated swimming lessons. As an adult, I don't know how to plug my nose underwater without actually wearing nose plugs. I honestly think my breathing would be smoother if I could swim without the nose plugs. (If you can describe how that's done--plugging you nose from inside while you swim--do tell!)
I'll close with a recap of our Halloween festivities with my family, courtesy of Anne. Her costume was truly frightening, by which I mean AWESOME. And, for your reading amusement, here's her story about what happens when I'm not there in the morning to save her life.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
writing on not writing
I still haven't written about the trial. I guess it just feels so big that I don't even know where to start. The short of it, for those keeping track:
The state's attorney was amazing. He was thorough, and he treated people with respect. The defense attorney did not do the same.
The state's witnesses were also thorough, while the defense witnesses' stories were wildly inconsistent.
I talked to my mom everyday. I know the whole thing weighed on everyone, especially on my mom and grandparents, who went everyday.
When we were called in on the tenth day, it was because the jury had a verdict on one of the two counts. That verdict was guilty, and the family heaved a silent sigh of relief. The judge gave the defense attorney the chance to poll the jury to confirm the verdict, and the last juror, the foreperson, changed his mind on his vote. They returned to deliberate, but they were hopelessly deadlocked. After that news, I felt so empty.
We learned a lot of useful information from the state's attorney, who stayed to chat with the jury after they were dismissed. Notably: they believed my mom, they didn't think my uncle had anything to do with causing the accident that killed him, they thought the defendant was most certainly guilty of causing the accident but that it wasn't proven without a reasonable doubt that she was drunk behind the wheel, they didn't believe the defendant or her witnesses, they thought the state's attorney was respectful while the defense attorney was not, they thought the state's witnesses were credible, and they were impressed with the show of support for the state's case, which included my family being there everyday and a cadre of off-duty state troopers who came to see the closings. All of these things did help relieve the emptiness we felt with the declaration of the mistrial.
There's more to say about things that have happened since then, but this hits the highlights from the trial itself, I suppose.
The state's attorney was amazing. He was thorough, and he treated people with respect. The defense attorney did not do the same.
The state's witnesses were also thorough, while the defense witnesses' stories were wildly inconsistent.
I talked to my mom everyday. I know the whole thing weighed on everyone, especially on my mom and grandparents, who went everyday.
When we were called in on the tenth day, it was because the jury had a verdict on one of the two counts. That verdict was guilty, and the family heaved a silent sigh of relief. The judge gave the defense attorney the chance to poll the jury to confirm the verdict, and the last juror, the foreperson, changed his mind on his vote. They returned to deliberate, but they were hopelessly deadlocked. After that news, I felt so empty.
We learned a lot of useful information from the state's attorney, who stayed to chat with the jury after they were dismissed. Notably: they believed my mom, they didn't think my uncle had anything to do with causing the accident that killed him, they thought the defendant was most certainly guilty of causing the accident but that it wasn't proven without a reasonable doubt that she was drunk behind the wheel, they didn't believe the defendant or her witnesses, they thought the state's attorney was respectful while the defense attorney was not, they thought the state's witnesses were credible, and they were impressed with the show of support for the state's case, which included my family being there everyday and a cadre of off-duty state troopers who came to see the closings. All of these things did help relieve the emptiness we felt with the declaration of the mistrial.
There's more to say about things that have happened since then, but this hits the highlights from the trial itself, I suppose.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
a weekend with a mix of rain and sunshine
Anne's parents were here over the weekend. They're good folks, and of course, we had a nice time.
Anne's paternal grandmother died not long before she was born. Parts of her life are well known, while some details remain shrouded in mystery. One of those mysteries has been her early life in Chicago. Anne's Aunt Mary has recently been doing some genealogical research, and between her research and Anne's dad's great uncle, we learned the name of the street she was born on: Grenshaw.
In my summer class on Chicago geography, we worked with a lot of homeowner data in Chicago's Puerto Rican neighborhood, so I learned how to find a lot of information online. I thought, Surely there must be a way to find her birth certificate, so I poked around the city websites. And, I found it. Fifteen dollars later, we knew a bunch more information about Anne's grandmother, including the address for the house in which she was born.
Saturday, we headed over to the North Lawndale neighborhood and found the house.
(That's her dad.)
After her parents flew home on Sunday, her dad emailed a few pictures to his siblings, along with the copy of the birth certificate, and he CC'd Anne and me. It's been a joy to see the responses from his siblings, reading how much it means to all of them to have this information. I'm happy I could give that to them.
Anne ran into one of our neighbors on her way in from the garage on Sunday, after dropping off her parents at O'Hare. We don't really know our neighbors that well, and in a moment of channelling her mother's extroversion, she stopped to chat with him.
He's living with his best friend in an apartment that's made me happy -- from the street, you can see the beautiful red color they painted the living room, and the bay windows have been flanked with beautiful flower boxes with amazing arrangements. The best friend told Anne about his friend, who went about creating the perfect space in that apartment. He wanted that work to continue around him until it was finished, even as he spent the weekend in bed, dying of cancer. The doctors did not expect him to survive the weekend.
The weekend was bittersweet. All around us... life and death, beginnings and ends, discovery and loss, joy and sorrow. Seemed fitting, really, that the weekend was a mix of cold rain and warm sunshine.
Anne's paternal grandmother died not long before she was born. Parts of her life are well known, while some details remain shrouded in mystery. One of those mysteries has been her early life in Chicago. Anne's Aunt Mary has recently been doing some genealogical research, and between her research and Anne's dad's great uncle, we learned the name of the street she was born on: Grenshaw.
In my summer class on Chicago geography, we worked with a lot of homeowner data in Chicago's Puerto Rican neighborhood, so I learned how to find a lot of information online. I thought, Surely there must be a way to find her birth certificate, so I poked around the city websites. And, I found it. Fifteen dollars later, we knew a bunch more information about Anne's grandmother, including the address for the house in which she was born.
Saturday, we headed over to the North Lawndale neighborhood and found the house.
(That's her dad.)
After her parents flew home on Sunday, her dad emailed a few pictures to his siblings, along with the copy of the birth certificate, and he CC'd Anne and me. It's been a joy to see the responses from his siblings, reading how much it means to all of them to have this information. I'm happy I could give that to them.
Anne ran into one of our neighbors on her way in from the garage on Sunday, after dropping off her parents at O'Hare. We don't really know our neighbors that well, and in a moment of channelling her mother's extroversion, she stopped to chat with him.
He's living with his best friend in an apartment that's made me happy -- from the street, you can see the beautiful red color they painted the living room, and the bay windows have been flanked with beautiful flower boxes with amazing arrangements. The best friend told Anne about his friend, who went about creating the perfect space in that apartment. He wanted that work to continue around him until it was finished, even as he spent the weekend in bed, dying of cancer. The doctors did not expect him to survive the weekend.
The weekend was bittersweet. All around us... life and death, beginnings and ends, discovery and loss, joy and sorrow. Seemed fitting, really, that the weekend was a mix of cold rain and warm sunshine.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
the face of politics
If you've read me here or elsewhere, you may remember that my office is in the library. We have a cafe on the main floor of the library, and because of the open design of the library, I can hear and smell happenings--good happenings--when I'm in my office. Carlos has been my coffee guy the whole time I've worked here (this is my fourth year). He knows my two favorite drinks--javalance (think frappaccino but better) and peppermint mocha. We've been known to shoot the shit from time to time, and from that I learned things like: his best friend and her daughter live with him so that he can help look after the little girl, he had emergency surgery in the spring when his appendix burst, he hasn't seen his mother in Mexico in ten years, and he's worked at the College for 18 years.
One thing we never talked about was his immigration status. I never thought about it.
Yesterday, Carlos and at least nine other employees of our food service company (we contract out) were terminated, effective immediately, because they are undocumented immigrants. In language that I don't particularly like, they are here illegally.
Immigration is one of those hot-button issues. It doesn't matter what you think about it. I don't care to argue about it, actually. It's one thing when it's an issue you're debating. It's another thing when that issue has a face, the face of someone you know and like.
One thing we never talked about was his immigration status. I never thought about it.
Yesterday, Carlos and at least nine other employees of our food service company (we contract out) were terminated, effective immediately, because they are undocumented immigrants. In language that I don't particularly like, they are here illegally.
Immigration is one of those hot-button issues. It doesn't matter what you think about it. I don't care to argue about it, actually. It's one thing when it's an issue you're debating. It's another thing when that issue has a face, the face of someone you know and like.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Little Victories
I got up at 5am and went to the gym. I was in the pool before 6:30.
[insert applause here]
I'm hoping that consistency is key. I'm looking at getting up at 5 every morning and going to swim Tuesdays-Fridays. On Mondays, I take the 6:48 train, instead of the usual 7:38, because I like to have more than 20 minutes in the office before my first meeting of the day (which is a department meeting on Mondays).
Breakfast has been posing a problem in this plan, though. This morning, a stroke of brilliance hit around 5:15 -- pack oatmeal! I scooped the oats and brown sugar into a gladware, and I stopped for a cup of hot water (...ok, and a latte) at Starbucks. Prepped the oatmeal and put it back in my bag and POOF! I had warm, ready to eat oatmeal on the train.
Not a bad start to the day. I forgot to bring a project for Knitting Lunch, but I remembered to pack leftover pizza for lunch.
All in all, not a bad start to a Tuesday.
I'm tellin' ya, it's all about the little victories.
[insert applause here]
I'm hoping that consistency is key. I'm looking at getting up at 5 every morning and going to swim Tuesdays-Fridays. On Mondays, I take the 6:48 train, instead of the usual 7:38, because I like to have more than 20 minutes in the office before my first meeting of the day (which is a department meeting on Mondays).
Breakfast has been posing a problem in this plan, though. This morning, a stroke of brilliance hit around 5:15 -- pack oatmeal! I scooped the oats and brown sugar into a gladware, and I stopped for a cup of hot water (...ok, and a latte) at Starbucks. Prepped the oatmeal and put it back in my bag and POOF! I had warm, ready to eat oatmeal on the train.
Not a bad start to the day. I forgot to bring a project for Knitting Lunch, but I remembered to pack leftover pizza for lunch.
All in all, not a bad start to a Tuesday.
I'm tellin' ya, it's all about the little victories.
Monday, October 5, 2009
so much to blog, so little time
Sigh, people. There are several things I'd like to tell you about, but I haven't had time to blog about any of them. I'm hoping that if I make this list, I'll be held accountable for actually writing these blog entries. So, here goes:
In the meantime, go donate to the DonorsChoose social media challenge via Tomato Nation. I'll even tell you which project to donate to -- one belonging to one of my former students. Also, watch my brother's latest video. It's trippy.
- The trial of the woman whose drunk-driving accident resulted in my uncle's death 2 years ago
- Changes afoot for our curriculum and what I have to do with any of that
- Baby crochet projects -- a sweater currently finished, a project for Gail underway, and thoughts about what I might make for Meghan
- Other happenings lately, perhaps a gym update, maybe some other smaller updates that don't require their own blog post
In the meantime, go donate to the DonorsChoose social media challenge via Tomato Nation. I'll even tell you which project to donate to -- one belonging to one of my former students. Also, watch my brother's latest video. It's trippy.
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